Redemption Song
by Tsukinori Kaze
Summary: Time has come and gone. Fuji has been missing for over a decade. Kikimaru Eiji is now faced with a choice he never thought he'd have to make: When you find something broken, do you try to fix it? The problem with that is...some things are meant to be broken. Eiji x Fuji, Fuji x Atobe, Tezuka x Ryoma.
1. Forget Me Not

Summary: Years have gone by and now Eiji is faced with a question he never thought he'd have to answer: When you find something broken, do you try to fix it? The problem with that is…some things are meant to be broken. Fuji x Eiji.

_Redemption Song_

Forgetting was always easy for Eiji. God had seen fit to grace him with a limited attention span, and so be it. Sometimes it made life easier. But there were some things that Eiji could never forget.

Like the Nationals, all the way back in junior high. The feeling of the cool metal trophy in his hands, the light dancing across the silver finish. He couldn't forget that.

High school graduation day- the look on Ryoma's face when he realized that his senpai- tachi were leaving him, this time for good.

The last time they met as the Seigaku regulars. The way everyone had looked, down to the last miniscule detail- the angry tears standing in Ryoma's defiant eyes, the way Oishi hadn't even tried to hold them back. Momoshiro and Kaidoh had tried to be brave- tried to accept with a passive calm their new responsibilities as Seigaku's new pillars. Inui's little blue book, for once, had been nowhere in sight.

Tezuka- always the stoic one, Tezuka had been the same as always. Proud and upstanding. Only his eyes gave him away. Kawamura's easy, awkward little smile trying desperately to reassure them. To tell them that this wasn't goodbye, that they'd always be this way.

But it wasn't true. Eiji had known it couldn't be. Juvenile as he was, he knew with abject certainty that time changed everything.

Seigaku's glory days were nothing but memories now. Memories that Eiji rarely had a reason to dwell on. He'd left for Kyoto a week after graduation. College and then law school, and when he looked up, it had been five years since he'd so much as spoken to any of the regulars. Then three more years passed.

So much for always.

Three years ago he'd met Oishi, by chance, at a business convention. The Golden Pair- the two who everyone would've sworn would stay together- laid eyes on each other for the first time in years.

Eiji had barely recognized him. The round faced companion he'd grown to love existed only in pictures now. But his personality- that hadn't changed at all. He was still a mother hen. Proud husband and expecting father, Oishi had done quite well for himself as an investment banker. That bright smile hadn't dimmed over the years, and honestly, seeing him made Eiji happier than he'd been in a very long time.

They'd done lunch. Because that's what successful business people did, they "did lunch". Oishi had been a wealth of information- in true mother hen fashion; he'd kept tabs on all of the people Eiji seemed to have forgotten.

Inui was a researcher for the government. A top secret researcher no less... Eiji could only imagine all the poor souls forced to serve as test subjects for Inui Juice 3000.

Kaidoh and Momoshiro were living together, after all of these years, and while no one knew the true nature of their relationship…the gleam in Oishi's olive eyes had been answer enough. Both of them were among the top ten realtors in the country….competitive, as always.

Kawamura was running his father's restaurant…but not from the kitchen. He ran Kawamura Sushi franchises from a large, sky lit office somewhere in North Tokyo. Eiji remembered that something had cringed within him then, something had died a little. He still didn't know why.

Tezuka, ever the perfectionist, was a doctor. Not just any doctor…he was the dean of medicine at Tokyo's main hospital. His paycheck, (he still couldn't believe Oishi had actually known the exact number) made Eiji's saliva glands go into overdrive.

No one needed to ask where Ryoma was. Seigaku's youngest prodigy was everything they'd always known he'd be- three time world champion. His cap was always pulled so low, even when he played, that it was impossible to see his face. And even though Eiji saw him every day on the television…without seeing the eyes, he wasn't really seeing Ryoma at all.

And then he'd asked. He hadn't been able to help himself. He distinctly remembered the circumstances- he'd taken a swig of his bourbon, needing the reinforcement. And then the question had shot out of his mouth. For a moment, just for a moment, he was a bouncy junior high schooler again; blurting questions he knew he had no business asking.

"What about Fuji?"

Oishi's face had paled a shade. He'd raked his nails over his five o' clock shadow anxiously and fingered his drink glass, avoiding eye contact.

"That's…that's not really a question I can answer, Eiji." He heaved a deep, weary sigh. "I wish I could, though. I'd like to know myself…all of us would like to know. I haven't seen him since …god, how many years ago was it now?" His relatively deep voice had scaled up in pitch, like a man realizing for the first time that time had passed him by without his notice.

Eiji hadn't expected anything more. He'd been trying to find Fuji for years…after Yuuta was killed in that care accident senior year, Fuji had shut off. He'd pulled away from everyone, Eiji included. Especially Eiji.

He hadn't even shown up at graduation. His tell tale smile was conspicuously missing from Eiji's patchwork of memories. And it hurt. God did it hurt, like a searing poker being driven through his chest every time he so much as thought about the best friend he'd lost.

The friend he hadn't been able to save from himself.

He'd tried. God knows he'd tried…he'd called every single soul who'd so much as heard of the tensai, he'd hired private investigator after private investigator. Not a trace. Nothing ever came up, not even the slightest hint.

It was as if he'd never existed in the first place. It was an unspoken consensus that he was probably dead.

"I figured as much." He'd mumbled dryly, forcing out a laugh. "Look at us, Oishi. Did you ever imagine that we'd be sipping bourbon at a business conference? Listening to jazz music? If someone had come up to me eight years ago and told me that I was going to be a lawyer, I would've thought they were bat shit crazy."

Oishi's dimpled smile had only been slightly contrived.

"You didn't lose your sense of humor, I see. I'm glad. I really am glad…I really am glad to see you Eiji." Oishi's soft eyes had glistened slightly, perhaps with the beginnings of tears. "I've missed you…"

And then the conversation turned away from the others. It was only about the two of them. They talked about everything. They filled in every single blank, every tiny little gap that eight years of separation left. They tried, with everything they had, to fill the gaping hole that the glory day's had left inside their hearts.

They'd seen quite a bit of each other after that. It turned out that Oishi's bank needed some high class lawyers to get them out of a few scrapes…and Eiji's law firm fit the bill perfectly. Every day for months, the two had "done lunch", talking about everything and anything possible. Eiji had met Oishi's family…his very pregnant wife had eyes the same shade as his own, and red hair to match. Oishi had joked that it was the reason he'd stopped to talk to her in the first place.

After the project ended, Eiji hadn't even given leaving Oishi a thought. The Golden Pair was together again, and Eiji wasn't letting time take anything else away from him. He'd quit his job. Oishi's bank had hired him as one of their private, personal lawyers. He'd moved back to Tokyo. Life went on. He saw Oishi every day, and on weekends, the taller boy would spend the night. When they had said all that could be said in one night, the two would fall asleep on top of the bed, arms and legs intertwined, foreheads resting peacefully against each other.

Just like it used to be.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Oishi had made plenty of mistakes in his life. First and foremost among them was lying next to him at that very moment, snoring softly and mumbling every now and then.

Yes, there was no doubt that Kikimaru Eiji was his biggest mistake. There had been so many chances…so many perfect opportunities to whisper, "I love you…" But he'd always found a way out. He'd always thought, "I'll tell him tomorrow" and then it was "next month" and then it was "next year." And then the years had run out, and they had stood there on graduation day, Eiji giving him the type of brilliant grin that only he could give. And Oishi had opened his mouth to say it, to tell the truth he knew would keep them both together…and nothing had come out.

A few hugs, a gentle peck on the forehead, and Eiji was gone. Gone off to look for the reason why the smile no longer reached his eyes.

Fuji.

It had taken Oishi years to figure out what had stopped him from admitting his feelings. When he finally realized it, it was far too late to do anything about it.

Eiji had always loved Oishi like his own brother. The red head would've done anything for his happiness, and Oishi knew it. If he had come forth with his feelings, Eiji would've returned his affections wholeheartedly. Because that was just the type of person he was.

But he wouldn't have been happy.

Because Oishi knew…Oishi knew that the looks of adoration, the secret, fleeting glances were not for him. And he knew that they would never truly be.

For Eiji, there was only Fuji. Even if Eiji himself didn't know it.

Had Oishi been a selfish man, he would've tossed this revelation aside and taken what he wanted. Eiji would never have been the wiser. But Oishi better than that. He had values and principals.

And so watching Eiji walk away from him…watching him fade into the crowd until he could see no more of the boy he loved was the price he had paid.

Several times over the years, he had been left to wonder if his upstanding ethics were worth a damn thing.

Marrying a woman who looked like Eiji was another one of his mistakes. He'd liked her well enough; she'd been friendly, smart, and gentle. After a year of dating her, a year of trying to find Eiji behind her dark eyes, she'd asked him if he was in love with her.

In response, he'd dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him. She'd said yes and that was that.

He never did answer the question.

It wasn't as if he were unhappy. No, unhappy wasn't the right word. He had a wife who loved him, a baby on the way, and a well paying, respected position at a very successful bank. Besides, he had discovered a long time ago that it was impossible to be unhappy so long as Eiji was so much as _breathing _in his direction.

Words couldn't describe the joy he'd felt eight months ago, spotting that familiar tuff of untamed red hair. He'd called out the name, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. The man had turned, and for an instant, for a split second, Oishi thought he'd been wrong. There was no bouncy aura, no unabashed energy surrounding the man before him. But then he'd smiled, and there was no mistaking it anymore.

Oishi would always know that smile.

Eiji turned over, and Oishi grimaced as he felt the circulation in his arm slowing to a crawl. He gently extracted himself from beneath the shorter male and stood up quietly, sneaking on tiptoes to the living room.

Eiji's apartment really was nice. It was a stark contrast to the messy, unorganized bedroom he'd previously called home. Everything was clean and orderly, the pictures on the wall were perfectly aligned. The furniture was a synchronized inky black, and the plasma screen television sat proudly in the center, like a king on his throne.

Oishi still couldn't believe it. This place seemed more like it would belong to someone like Tezuka, or Ryoma or…Fuji.

Oishi sighed softly and padded to the kitchen, opening the fridge even though he wasn't hungry in the slightest. Three bottles of bourdon, flanked by two bottles of rum and a flask of whiskey adorned the top shelf. Eiji was certainly fond of his liquor. Perhaps a little more than Oishi would like him to be.

No, he wasn't an alcoholic, Oishi made sure of that. Though several times they'd argued over Eiji's love of drink.

"You're going to destroy your kidneys!" he'd fret, always under the same circumstances- he'd drop by unannounced, always to find Eiji sitting in his dark apartment, drinking in the silence. It was always like that- Eiji was bouncy, cheerful, _normal_ whenever he saw him during the day. But at night…at night, it was as if he were a different person entirely.

Eiji would curl his upper lip, snort, and toss his glass into the sink with a resounding clang.

"Relax, Oishi. I was just finishing up. Besides, if I do shoot out my kidneys all you have to do is make one phone c all- Tezuka will fix us up in no time. "

"I'm not the one who's going to need _dialysis_ at twenty eight!"

"No," the red head would quip, "But you're going to need brain surgery to fix that aneurism you're about to have if you don't stop worrying.

And then the conversation would be over, because neither of them felt like arguing.

Oishi reached for the open flask of whiskey despite himself. He wasn't a big drinker- it was more of a social thing for him. And he certainly didn't condone alcoholic beverages at 2:37 am. It was something he would've lit into Eiji about, and here was, following in friend's transient footsteps.

He sighed yet again, sipping his drink and wandering about the kitchen. He ran his fingers over the granite counter tops, stopping when he reached the answering machine. He eyed the blinking red number on the screen- 12 new messages. Oishi raised a brow. No wonder Eiji never returned his calls.

He pressed the "play" button and hopped onto a bar stool, swirling his drink around in his mouth and thinking about everything he could've, might've, should've done.

The first three messages were from work. Eiji's secretary bugging him to turn in some files. After the fifth or sixth generic message, Oishi stopped listening.

He leaned backward in his seat, letting his eyes roam and his thoughts wonder. He wondered when he fell out of love with Eiji, or if he had at all. He wondered if he would ever bring the smile back to his friend's eyes. He wondered what he would call his child, what it would look like. He wondered if everything being "okay" was enough for him. And he wondered if he'd ever stop wondering at all.

The answering machine ceased it's droning, and Oishi stood to turn the thing off.

Then he heard it.

And as many mistakes as he'd made in his life, there was no mistaking this. High, soft, almost melodious. The years had done nothing to tarnish the purity of that sound.

_Eiji? _

Oishi's glass shattered, the pieces sliding across the floor and into the darkness.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The wind was strong that day. It whipped Eiji's long red tresses into his face as they zoomed along the highway at well beyond the legal limit. It wasn't like Oishi to speed.

But the other man had been on edge all day. He kept glancing at his watch obsessively and making little squeaking noises. He was also working on chewing a decent sized hole through his lip. And now he was driving like a maniac, weaving Eiji's little silver Lexus in and out of lanes. At the risk of sounding like Oishi, he couldn't help but offer a word of caution.

"Oishi….Oishi, relax. I'm sure the client isn't going to care if we're a little late."

The olive eyed boy didn't take his eyes off the road, and if anything, his death grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"We're late." He bit out, tension evident in his bearing. "We're already ten minutes late."

Eiji sighed and raised a hand to shield himself from the wind. "Oishi, we're not going to get fired. Just take it easy. Buy the client an extra drink and I'm sure he'll forget about it. Besides, I don't understand why _I_ have to be here for this."

Oishi swerved, narrowly avoiding swiping the back of a station wagon. Eiji cringed.

"Because. You're a lawyer and it's your job to make sure I don't say anything that could get us sued."

Oishi cursed under his breath as the light before them flickered red. Eiji rolled his eyes.

"I will never understand why you business men insist of having these fancy lunch dates. Why can't you just finalize the deal over the phone? From what you've told me, the deal is pretty much sealed anyway."

"Then it shouldn't take long. I don't know why you're complaining-" Oishi broke off and jammed his foot on the gas. The convertible shot forward. "You're getting a free lunch out of this whole thing. And all you have to do is sit there."

Eiji huffed. Oishi did have a point. The one upside of having to go to these ridiculous things was the fancy food on the company's tab.

"Alright, fine. But are you ever going to tell me why you made me wear a sports jacket and freaking khakis? I look like some snot nosed little rich kid. Don't people usually wear suit and tie to these things?"

Oishi squirmed uncomfortably and promptly continued trying to drill a hole in his bottom lip. He mumbled something incomprehensible, and then offered up a very audible curse as they got stuck at another red light.

"Look, Eiji, I don't know why we have to play twenty questions. It's not like I know the answers. My secretary called this morning and told us to meet the client at four. The end."

The red head shot a glare at Oishi, but the taller male wasn't looking at him. He was currently occupied with trying to teleport the cars in front of them some where else with his mind.

"Why do you always call Sayuri your secretary? She also happens to be your wife, you know."

Oishi made a grunting sound in response.

"Eiji, can you just shut up for five seconds? I'm trying to think. We'll be there in three minutes, give or take a few seconds, and I can't seem to….I just…don't know what I'm going to say, alright? This meeting is…important." Oishi's voice tapered out, and all of a sudden, he looked incredibly anxious.

Eiji frowned. "I thought you said that this was just a formality meeting. Besides, who the hell is this big important client who popped up overnight? Maybe I'm just out of the loop, but I haven't heard about any-"

Oishi jammed his foot on the brake. The car lurched to a screeching halt in front of the restaurant and if Eiji hadn't been wearing his seat belt he would've had a mouth full of asphalt. Eiji shot a very pointed "Are you out of your mind?" glare at the driver. He received a sheepish, very nervous grin in response.

"Sorry."

The valet opened the door and Eiji climbed out, happy to be free of the screaming metal death trap his car had become. He noticed the restaurant name, scrawled across a white awning in black calligraphy and grinned.

_Château. _It was the nicest French restaurant in the city. You couldn't get a glass of water for free. It was the type of place both he and Oishi could afford to go to if they so chose, but quite frankly, it was expensive and was usually reserved for special occasions.

Eiji whistled under his breath. "You must really want to impress this guy, Oishi."

The olive eyed boy looked at him, apprehension written all over his face. He opened his mouth and shut it, and the sight would've been comical if Oishi hadn't looked as if the sky were about to come tumbling down.

"I….you should know-"he stopped short, the musical tones of Fur Elise floating up from his pants pocket. His face paled visibly. He snatched up the Blackberry and pressed it against his cheek.

"Yes? Alright. Uh-huh. Got it. Okay then. Bye."

He jammed his finger on the power button, eyes burning with a strange sort of fire. He turned to his companion, voice flat.

"Sayuri is in labor."

Eiji felt his heart leap into his throat. "What? Now? But it's too early- it isn't time yet-"

"It's going to be alright, Eiji. Tezuka's taking care of her." His voice was oddly calm.

"Oishi…we have to go. Come on, we have to-"Eiji looked around frantically. "We need those keys back. We need the-"

Oishi walked, very calmly over the front desk and retrieved the keys.

"Eiji…is it alright if I take the car?"

Eiji could only splutter. "No…yes…I mean I'm going too…I'm going with you-"

"No, Eiji. This is more important right now." Oishi's voice was soothing, almost placating. "You should go inside. He's probably been waiting for a bit now."

Dark eyes widened. "No, we can cancel- I can reschedule-"

Oishi wasn't listening to his former classmate's protests. He climbed back into the vehicle and gave Eiji a long look. Sadness and compassion swam in those olive orbs.

"I'm so sorry, Eiji…"

The red haired boy could only gape as Oishi sped away.

_Oishi's having a baby. Oh my god, Oishi's having a fucking baby?! What the hell am I still doing here? _

He might've stood there for several more minutes if the valet hadn't tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir?"

Eiji nodded stiffly, robotically. It was very simple. He was going to walk inside, apologize profusely to the client, explain the circumstance, and then he was going to politely excuse himself and go beat the crap out of Oishi for stranding him here like this.

He walked through the large window doors, ignoring the smell of freshly baked bread. He had to stay focused. The décor was classic, little glass tables adorned with a single rose and candle scattered about a large, well lit room. The large French windows allowed the sunlight to flit through the starch white curtains. The sound of the numerous fountains stationed around the restaurant created a tinkling melody.

Several distinguished looking people made small talk in hushed tones, and if Eiji really tried, he could distinguish the scent of expensive perfume.

A waiter in suit and tie was at his side in an instant.

"May I help you, sir?"

Eiji blinked.

"Yeah-um-yes. Reservation was for four o' clock…three? Three people, I mean…"

The waiter raised an eyebrow.

"Your name, if you please, sir?"

He hesitated. "Um…Kikimaru Eiji. But I'm not sure if the reservation is under my name…"

The waiter glanced at the list pinned to the far wall.

"I'm sorry sir, but it appears that it is not."

"Oishi…check Oishi, please."

The waiter looked at the list again. "Ah, yes. Three, at four o' clock. The first member of your party arrived some time ago, sir."

Eiji grimaced inwardly. "Um…yeah…"

The waiter made an elaborate gesturing motion. "Then, if you please sir…"

"Yeah…Sure…" he mumbled, allowing the waiter to lead him through the restaurant.

Eiji kept his eyes trained on the ground, following the shiny black glint of his guide's shoes. His stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten breakfast and the tantalizing smell of five star French cuisine did nothing to help. But there was no way around it. If Oishi thought he was going to sit here and make small talk with some stuffy rich guy while _his_ godchild was born, he had another damn thing coming...

The shoes he was following stopped abruptly and Eiji raised his head, brushing his wind swept tendrils out of his face in an attempt to look presentable. The waiter bowed and moved away.

The sunlight poured in through the large window, framing the lone man at the table in a golden glow.

The client stood, honey brown locks sweeping across the side of his porcelain face. Sparkling azure orbs met his. A soft smile played across the man's face.

"It's been a long time…Eiji."

And then Eiji's mind shut off. The remnants of his last few coherent thoughts rattled around in his head, creating a deafening echo that drowned out all sound.

_Fuji. _


	2. As Long As He Needs Me

_**Author's Note: I am sorry I have neglected this story for so long. It is actually my favorite. I am currently writing the last chapter of "Fire and Wind." Life has slowed down for a brief moment and now I have time to write again. Thank you all for staying with me. Love, Tsuki. **_

Chapter Two: As Long as He Needs Me

Fuji's smile had not changed. It was still soft, barely there, and fake as anything. But the burning in those crystalline azure eyes, the frigid glint that hid a reservoir of untold knowledge…that was not fake. The years had done nothing to dim it.

Fuji had grown. He now stood taller than Eiji himself. His skin was still porcelain; his hair was still a honeyed brown that suggested he spent many days in the sunlight. His plain grey suit had been left unbuttoned to reveal a pale blue button down shirt. All of this Eiji noticed in seconds, with those eyes of his that never missed a beat.

But still he could say nothing. Fuji kept his gaze steady, smile never wavering. And then Eiji's legs would no longer support him and he sank into his chair, elbows clanging on the table loudly. His dark eyes were wide and blank. His brain refused to process what lay before them as any plausible reality. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.

Ten years. Ten years without a trace. Ten years of sleepless nights and drunken crying fits. Ten years of needing a drink to drive away the torturous images of Fuji twirling around the court, eyes bright and alive with an electric thrill. Ten years of waking up with a stained pillow and a gaping hole in his chest. Ten years of hating himself for not being able to save his best friend.

The tears came before the acceptance did. They trickled freely down his face and fell down his chin, gathering in a miniscule puddle on the white table cloth.

Fuji's voice managed to reach him like the beacon of a lighthouse to a sailor lost in black fog.

"Eiji," he said, in a voice that sounded young but not childish, sweet but not sickening, kind but not trusting, wise but not old, perfect but human. "I am so sorry."

And then the shock dissipated and the wall broke. The full force of what was happening hit Eiji like a train.

The tears began to flow faster and then he was whimpering. And then he was sobbing. And then he was wailing.

There Eiji sat, a 27 year old man in the middle of a restaurant, bawling like a heartbroken child.

Fuji watched him with a calm face, save for the eyes flickering with sadness. The waiter hurried over, face tight with irritation and feigned concern. Eiji's antics were starting to attract attention from the other guests.

"Sir," he said urgently, "Is everything all right?"

Fuji answered him, tone polite but crackling with a subtle edge.

"We're fine. Perhaps you could bring us a bottle of wine? Use your own discretion."

The waiter bowed and hurried off.

Fuji reached across the table and gripped Eiji's clenched fists in his own. The acrobat's hands relaxed instantly. Eiji's muscles had never forgotten that feather light touch.

"Eiji," whispered Fuji slowly, enunciating every letter.

Something about hearing Fuji speak his name like that caused Eiji's tears to cease. The tensai said nothing else but did not relinquish his grip.

They remained like that for a long moment, eyes locked. By this time Eiji had quieted. His face was still red from weeping but his breathing had almost returned to normal. The waiter brought the wine and poured them two glasses before clearing out as soon as he could manage.

Finally, Eiji managed to form a thought. Or rather, snatch one thought from the millions running around in his mind. Then, after several seconds of quivering, he managed to form a word.

"Fuji."

There. Eiji had allowed himself to say it. It was true. He was accepting this man as Fuji, _his_ Fuji.

Said man smiled lightly, but did not shut his eyes as he used to do.

"Yes."

"You're alive." Eiji said in a strained, weak little voice.

Fuji looked for a split second as if he were going to laugh but then his face returned to a neutral mask.

"Yes, Eiji." He responded in a voice that was just as soft. "I am alive."

Eiji swallowed the lump of tears rising up in his throat. His eyes whirred frantically before settling on his now full wine glass.

He slipped his right hand out of Fuji's grasp and gripped the glass with shaking fingers. In a matter of seconds, the glass was empty.

Eiji swallowed again, letting the liquor steady him. His thoughts began to slow down enough for him to understand them.

Fuji seemed to notice the change because he drew his own hands back and placed them neatly in his lap.

He sipped lightly at his own wine before placing it back on the table.

Then he waited for Eiji to speak.

"You never came back," Eiji said flatly. His emotions were in overdrive. The only way he was able to function now was to shut them off.

This was his last defense mechanism. This was all he had left.

"No," Fuji responded, in that same soft little voice. "I never came back."

"I looked for you."

"Yes. I know. It was quite difficult avoiding all the investigators you sent after me."

"You knew I was looking for you."

"Yes. I just didn't want to be found. By anyone."

"Not even me."

Fuji's eyes flickered.

"If there was one person I would have ever let find me," Fuji said clearly, with a hint of something bitter in his tone, "It was you, Eiji."

Eiji took a steadying breath and then asked the question he'd wanted to know for so long, in the simplest possible way he could process it.

"Why?"

For the first time, Fuji broke eye contact. He stared down at his hands, mouth falling downwards to form a look that could almost be called desperate.

"I knew when I came here today that I'd have to answer that question," he said, voice dropping so that Eiji had to strain to hear it. "And there is no easy way to say any of this. Nothing about this situation is easy."

Fuji took a breath. For the first time, the slightest hint of aging showed on his face.

"I left home at seventeen," he began, "But you know that. I skipped graduation. I bought some flowers for you. I wanted to leave them at your house but couldn't risk being seen. So in the end, I left them on the tennis court when everyone had gone home. I didn't…I didn't know where else to put them."

Eiji listened in stunned silence, heart thudding in his ears, nearly drowning out the sound of Fuji's words.

"After Yuuta died…." Fuji's voice broke and Eiji had to resist the urge to start crying again. "After Yuuta died, I started to doubt everything. I used to…I was never truly religious but I…I believed in God. I believed in a plan. In a purpose. I thought…arrogant as I was, stupid as I was…I thought I had figured out the rules. I thought I was golden. That nothing could ever touch me."

Fuji took another breath, even shakier than the first one.

"Often times I think that God killed Yuuta to punish me for my supreme arrogance. To show me that I was far from golden…I was damned. I stopped believing in rules, after that. I still believed in God. If only to hate him, I believed in him. I went to the post office and got my diploma before it could be mailed home. Then I took three pairs of clothes, the four hundred dollars I had saved up and…"Fuji again looked as if he might laugh but his tone grew bitter. "The medal. The gold medal I won at Nationals. I lugged that thing around in my bag for weeks until I found a place to stay. I refused to sell that ridiculous thing, even when I was really down on my luck and needed the money. It's stupid if you think about it."

Fuji did laugh this time, but it was contrived. The waiter made his way back over to take their orders. Eiji wanted to scream at him to go away but Fuji skillfully suggested that the waiter bring them whatever the daily special happened to be.

The look on Eiji's face must have been rather frightening because rather than explain what the special was the waiter just nodded and walked away.

After a moment, Fuji continued his tale.

"Anyway…I couldn't stay in Japan. I tried for about a year, staying in cheap motels and picking up odd jobs. I actually made decent money as a salesman for a department store in Osaka. Women were more than happy to buy anti-aging cream from me. But I couldn't stay here. It was suffocating. Everywhere I looked I saw…I saw my brother's body. Nearly…nearly ripped in two."

Eiji couldn't help it. He let out a low whimper. Fuji but his lip but pressed on.

"Not to mention all the people you sent after me. I came very close to being caught more than once. I couldn't risk it. I wasn't ready to face anyone. I wouldn't be ready for a long time. I decided to leave. I used my remaining money to purchase a passport with a fake name and I went to France. I got a job as a janitor at a tennis club. It wasn't long before the manager realized I knew about the sport and offered to play me in a teaching game. Here, I was, a young kid. I suppose he felt sorry for me." Fuji's eyes gleamed. "I beat him rather badly. In retrospect, I probably should have held back. The whole club was watching and to save face, the manager made me an instructor. I held that job for three years. It was the happiest I had been in a long time." His face darkened. "It's my own fault it didn't last. I didn't think. When I learned that some of the players in the upcoming French Open were coming to play some games at the club, I was intrigued. I should have stayed out of sight. But I didn't."

Eiji's mouth went dry. "Ryoma."

"Ryoma." Fuji affirmed. He sounded almost…sad. "He saw me first. I knew it was too late to run. I begged him to let me go in peace. He was…he was…"Fuji let out a soft chuckle, "He has indignant, as usual. I had to get on my knees and plead with him to keep my secret. And even then, he made me play him. Somehow, I managed to beat him by the slimmest of margins. I often wonder if he let me win. But Ryoma has always been a man of his word. Judging by the look on your face, I assume he kept his vow of silence."

Eiji could only nod. The knowledge that Ryoma had been aware of Fuji's existence all this time was too much for him to process right now.

"The escape was too narrow for my taste," Fuji elaborated, running his fingers through his silky hair. "So I left. I had more money this time but nowhere that I really wanted to go. I had a feeling Ryoma would seek me out everywhere he went. You had given up on finding me by this point but if Ryoma wanted to, I am sure he could have hunted me down in America, Britain, or anywhere else his tennis took him. Eventually, I settled on Germany. Lots of people speak English there so I was able to find a job. Tennis was my most lucrative skill but I couldn't risk getting involved in that world again. So I got a new fake name. I started over."

Eiji struggled to remain still as the information he had sought so desperately sunk in. He had an intense desire to scream at the top of his lungs but resisted it.

When the waiter came back with their steak tartar and more wine, Eiji told him to leave the bottle.

He then turned back to face a slightly bemused looking Fuji.

"Finish the story," he demanded bluntly. "Tell me what happened to you then, Fuji. Explain."

Fuji took a small bite of his food, chewed thoughtfully, and then spoke.

"The next five years were relatively peaceful. I lived alone, worked mostly from home, and spent my free time watching kids play in the street. It was a quiet existence."

Fuji took another bite and sipped his wine. He was still working on his first glass. Eiji was on his third.

"I missed Japan," Fuji admitted finally, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. His eyes were glossed over slightly. "After nearly seven years abroad, I was mentally exhausted. All I wanted was to come home. And now here I am."

Eiji's mouth hung slack.

"There's a missing year," he breathed, "A year on the run, three years in…in France and five in Germany living a…there's something you aren't telling me about Fuji. What happened?"

Fuji smiled sadly. He looked guilty, like a child caught at thieving.

"Nothing that matters anymore," he mumbled dryly, and then he raised his voice and pinned Eiji down with his poignant gaze. "I'm here now. And I'm not leaving ever again."

It was a boy. Seven pounds four ounces. A big boy, a strong boy, a healthy boy with Eiji's obsidian eyes.

The child finally came into the world at 9:37 PM on breezy Wednesday afternoon in late November. He was a month early, but was none the worse for it.

And as long as he lived, Oishi would hate himself for not being happy the day his son was born.

His wife was holding their child, eyes filled with tears. She was saying something to him, offering the boy to him. Oishi blinked but made no movement to accept the baby from her arms.

A knock on the door broke Oishi out of his trance.

Standing there in a white lab coat and smart blue surgical scrubs was twenty-eight year old Tezuka Kunimitsu. He too, appeared immune to the effects of time. His sharp hazel eyes never missed a beat and he was still the type of man that inspired others to follow him mind, body, and soul.

He was still an unwavering leader, the youngest dean of medicine the hospital had ever had. He'd finished college in two years, medical school in three. His internship had been a formality at best and his residency had been accelerated well beyond normal legal limits. So amazing was his story, in fact, that Tezuka had been featured in several medical journals and even appeared on the late night news.

A prodigy until the end. Some things never changed.

"Oishi," he said pleasantly, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. He nodded to Oishi's wife, "Sayuri-san. My congratulations."

Sayuri beamed at him. Sayuri fawned over Tezuka, ever since Oishi had introduced them two years ago. Oishi and Tezuka had been the first to reunite. They saw Momoshiro and Kaidoh rarely, as both of them traveled frequently for business, but the five of them, including Eiji, had a few lunches on occasion. Kawamura was near impossible to get a hold of because of his schedule, but Oishi had seen him three or four times as well.

Ryoma was just as elusive, though according to Tezuka the youngest regular would stop by the hospital on holidays to have some coffee with his former captain before running off to catch a flight. Inui, though still in Tokyo, kept his location hidden most of the time. He did manage to write, though.

Tezuka had never lost touch with Momo or Kaidoh, because they actually lived within walking distance of each other. Kawamura kept in touch as best he could and then two years ago Oishi re-established contact. Eight months ago Eiji had moved back to Tokyo and the seven of them, when they could track down Inui, were almost like friends again. Almost. The only one to see Ryoma was Tezuka, because Ryoma could make time only for one person. And it was rather obvious who he chose. Oishi didn't begrudge him that.

"Thank you, sensei." She cooed prettily, voice a bit strained. "It is after all, you who delivered this blessing." She hugged the gurgling babe to her chest, tears once more filling her eyes.

Tezuka smiled politely, but he had never been a sentimental man. He turned to Oishi.

"Oishi, a word?"

Sayuri jutted out her bottom lip. "But dear, you haven't even held your son yet."

Oishi was suddenly very irritated with his wife for no good reason at all. He was quite sure he would have snapped, "I don't want to hold him, I don't want him at all. I never would have slept with you that night if I hadn't been plastered, anyway."

Tezuka, as usual, stepped in to diffuse the situation. He awarded her one of his winning smiles.

"I'm sorry, Sayuri-san, but it will only take a moment."

Sayuri's cheeks colored. "Well, alright. But bring him back to us."

Oishi bit back bile. _Us. _So now it was _us. _A happy little family. Two people who could leech the life out of him until he bleed dry.

Tezuka motioned for Oishi to step outside with him. Oishi opened his mouth to speak but Tezuka shook his head silently and kept walking.

Oishi followed him, glad of any excuse to be away from…well, away from it. That "it" that meant he could never back out. That "it" that appealed to his morals and his upstanding ethics, binding him in place.

Tezuka led Oishi to his office, a large room on the first floor near the primary nurses' station. As soon as the door shut behind them, Oishi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"You should be happy," Tezuka said bluntly, walking over to the window and looking out. "You just had a child."

Oishi shrugged his shoulders. He didn't have to hide with Tezuka. The man had once been his closest friend.

"Why didn't you tell me Fuji was alive?" he said softly, sitting down on the couch in the far corner. He was suddenly far too tired to stand.

Tezuka shrugged in response. "Ryoma made me promise not to. When you called me last week, saying Fuji had made contact, you were rather hysterical. I could only imagine what Eiji's reaction would have been if I'd told him when I first found out."

Oishi was about to protest but Tezuka waved a hand.

"I know you would've told him, Oishi. Your loyalty has always been to him. It's alright. I understand that."

Oishi only sighed in response.

"You've known this for six years, Tezuka. Six years you've known he was alive and living in France-,"

"No," Tezuka interrupted, "Ryoma found him in France six years ago. A week later, Ryoma went back to look for him and he was gone. I have no idea where he went after that and neither does Ryoma. He came to see me about two months ago, when he first came back to Japan. I have not the slightest clue about his life in between then and now."

Oishi groaned in frustration. "But still, you knew. You knew, Tezuka, that he was alive. Eiji thought he was dead. I watched Eiji bury himself in a bottle night after night because he thought Fuji was dead. That he hadn't been able to save him. How-,"

"I didn't know where he was, Oishi. Even if I had told Eiji what good would it have done? To give him hope with nothing to go on? If I'd done that, Eiji would never have stopped looking for Fuji. He probably would've driven himself mad."

Oishi swallowed back further protests. After all, Tezuka was right. But it still didn't sit right with him.

"What did he say to you?" Oishi said finally, "When he came to see you two months ago?"

Tezuka just shook his head.

Oishi scowled. "More secrets, then?"

"Perhaps," Tezuka responded, but his tone was apologetic. "But they aren't my secrets to tell."

"I left them alone," Oishi croaked, horrified to realize that he was near tears; "I left Eiji alone with him. I let you talk me into arranging this thing and then I left him alone. I have to go back-,"

Tezuka turned to face him, face soft. He closed the space between them and sat down next to his friend, winding an arm around Oishi's slumped shoulder.

"Oishi," he said in his doctor voice-the voice he used when explaining a prognosis-"It's better this way. You'll get a chance to talk to Fuji, but right now, this is Eiji's chance. He needs this. "

Oishi shook his head, though he didn't know at what.

"Why did he have to do this?" he asked desperately, "Why did he have to do this us?"

Tezuka sighed. "You know it isn't that simple, Oishi."

"So he's back for real now?" Oishi asked, shocked to hear the bitterness in his tone, "He's just going to roll in and take his place like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't walk out ten years ago without so much as a-,"

"Are you even happy he's alive?" Tezuka interrupted softly, pinning Oishi down with his stare. But he did not look angry or indignant. Just…curious.

In the years to come, Oishi would hate himself for hesitating when Tezuka asked him that question.

"Yes," he said finally and he was relieved at the truth he felt when he replied, "I worried too, you know. He was my friend too. I'm just…I'm just angry at him."

"I was too," Tezuka admitted, drawing Oishi closer so that their heads were touching. Oishi blinked. It was not like Tezuka the teenager to embrace anyone. In Tezuka the man, it was unheard of.

But the warmth brought him comfort.

"I was angrier than anyone. Fuji and I understood each other, in those days. I selfishly thought, for years after his disappearance, that he'd contact me and I'd go to him and convince him to come home."

Tezuka shrugged his other shoulder.

"I blamed Fuji for changing us." He said flatly, eyes misting over. "I blamed him for the drifting that began after he left. I blamed him for…well; I blamed him for a lot of things."

Oishi swallowed back a sob. He didn't know why he felt the urge to sob in the first place.

"What changed?" he asked meekly, hoping that as always, Tezuka would have some words of wisdom to make everything alright.

"Nothing." He responded curtly, adjusting his glasses. "I just can't hate him anymore."

"But-,"

"Understand this, Oishi. Out of all losses, time is the one thing we can never hope to get back."

By the time they left the restaurant, the sun had set and the evening stars shone in the sky. Their light was dimmed by their man-man counterparts but still they twinkled, bravely pressing on.

Eiji had consumed too much wine to drive and even if he hadn't, Oishi had taken his car. He had his arm slung possessively around Fuji's waist.

Part of him still didn't believe this was real. In fact, most of him still believed this was a cruel dream he would wake up from in the morning. Feeling Fuji's warmth against him made it almost believable. Almost.

"You're not leaving," Eiji commanded; voice slightly higher than normal. "Fuji, do you hear me? I won't let you leave."

Fuji did not seem to mind Eiji's intoxicated state, nor his clingy behavior. His smile was serene and his eyes were alight with a strange fire.

"I promised you I wouldn't leave you. I'm not going anywhere. In the morning we can-,"

"No!" Eiji wailed petulantly, burying his face in Fuji's collar bone. The other patrons on their way out of the closing restaurant gave them looks but neither man paid attention.

"You don't want me to go back to my hotel?" Fuji asked patiently, sounding rather amused.

"No!" Eiji cried again, "Stay with me. Promise me you'll stay…"

For the first time that evening, Fuji looked as if he might cry.

"You want me to come home with you?"

"Yes," Eiji said, nuzzling against Fuji's swanlike neck. "Apartment 318, top floor, just beneath the penthouse. The Alpine on…"

"I know where it is," Fuji mumbled, sounding a bit awestruck. "You live there? I used to pass it on my way to the park. That place is expensive."

Eiji giggled. "Oishi's company pays mega bucks. I even bought a-_hiccup_-a new sports car. But Oishi-_hiccup_-took my car-baby…_-hiccup_."

Fuji let out a genuine laugh then and it rang pure and sweet in the night sky.

"Are you happy, Eiji?" Fuji whispered, raising a hand to stroke the back of Eiji's wild red mane. "Are you really and truly happy?"

"Now," Eiji whispered back, vision swirling before him. "I'm happy now."

Fuji's tone grew alarmed as he pulled back, supporting Eiji by the shoulders.

"Eiji, are you alright? Eiji?"

"Fujiko-chan," Eiji mumbled, knees buckling. It was Fuji who stopped him from falling face first.

The world around him grew smaller and smaller until all Eiji could see was a hazy picture of Fuji's blazing eyes.

_Please don't…be a dream._

And then the world faded to black.

It was past midnight when Oishi finally managed to get away from his family. His son-who they had yet to name-was sleeping peacefully in NICU, just to be safe. His wife was also sound asleep.

Tezuka did not seem surprised when Oishi re-entered his office.

"Be back by morning," he said, without looking up. "And don't push him, Oishi. He'll tell you everything when he's ready."

Oishi only nodded. Then he hesitated.

"Is Fuji…?"

"He'll be with Eiji. But you already knew that."

"Will you come with me?"

Tezuka looked up from his paperwork, glasses slipping down onto his nose.

"Not yet," he said clearly, "Go, Oishi."

So Oishi went. He fished Eiji's keys out of his pocket and went to get the car.

The streets were unnaturally still. It unnerved Oishi greatly. The cool night air did nothing to clear his head.

He arrived at Eiji's apartment complex too soon. In the elevator, Oishi let himself panic. Just for a little while, so that when he finally saw Fuji, he could smile.

Oishi leaned against the cool wooden paneling, willing his muscles to relax.

_He's your friend. You missed him. _

_You wanted to see him again. _

_He's alive. It's wonderful that he's alive. _

_Eiji is going to choose him over you. _

_Again. _

_No, no, no. It doesn't have to be that way. _

_Why do you care? You're married. _

_You have a newborn son. Who you can't even name, because you're too worried that Eiji won't be all yours anymore. _

_Shut up. _

_You should never have let Eiji get away. _

_Shut up! _

The doors to the elevator opened and Oishi all but ran off it. There were only two apartments on this floor. He walked up to the right one, the one he'd been too countless times.

Oishi's palms began to sweat profusely as he pulled out the house key Eiji had given him nearly a year ago.

The former acrobat had picked out the keychain. It was a white bunny rabbit with a shockingly red tuft of hair. The rabbit sported a huge grin.

Eiji had explained that it was meant to remind Oishi of him.

Oishi was horrified to feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes.

He stuck the key in the lock and twisted it before he could change his mind.

The next few minutes would change Oishi's life forever.

_12:43 AM: Seigaku's former vice captain enters the apartment of Kikimaru Eiji. _

_12:46 AM: Eiji stirs in his sleep but does not wake. _

_12:51 AM: Oishi notices the bathroom light is on. _

_12:52 AM: Oishi lays eyes on his lost teammate for the first time in ten years. _

_He has not aged, he thinks. His eyes are still piercing and clear. His skin is still flawless. He still looks like an angel. He smiles in greeting, but it is weak and far away._

_And it is then that Oishi sees it._

_The needle in his left arm._

_And then the angel speaks._

"_I missed you."_

_And Oishi can say nothing._

_Fuji…_

_What is there to say?_


	3. Contrition

**Author's Note: **Hello, my loyal readers. This is my first update in about a year. I've been very busy but I honestly love my stories so I'll try to be better, promise. You've begged me to finish this story and so I shall. I hope you enjoy it. Attention: I know I said three parts but this is now probably going to be between **five and ten chapters.** I just can't bring myself to wrap it up without a bit more first…

Chapter 3: _Contrition _

"_So long as I live…I shall never forgive myself."- Mary Tudor_

Oishi felt his work satchel slide from his shoulder and hit the bathroom floor with a dull thud. He found himself paralyzed, rooted helplessly to the spot. The moisture receded from his mouth, leaving his throat dry and clamped shut. It took him several moments before he could speak.

"Fuji," he breathed helplessly. He had not laid eyes upon his former teammate- and his former friend-in over a decade. Though he had spoken with Fuji briefly over the phone to arrange the meeting with Eiji, it was still a tremendous shock to see the tensai sitting directly in front of him.

As irony would have it, Fuji looked exactly the same. With the exception of his slight increase in height, his face was straight of out of their high school scrapbook. Right down to that light, serene smile.

Everything had changed forever because of Fuji. And Fuji himself looked not a day over 18.

While Oishi was locked in a stupor, Fuji hastily tucked the needle out of sight in a little black case lying next to him. He slipped it into the pocket of his jeans before Oishi had a chance to inspect it further.

"I've missed you," Fuji repeated, rising to his feet and extending a long, graceful arm.

Oishi, not knowing what else to do reached out and took it. The hand shake quickly merged into a hug. Oishi's eyes drifted shut. All of his earlier anger at Fuji dissipated. First and foremost…he was just happy to see his friend alive.

The two men proceeded wordlessly from the bathroom and into the kitchen. Fuji handed Oishi a cup of the coffee he'd been brewing. When Oishi took it, he noticed that his hands were shaking.

Fuji silently assumed his place across the table, sipping at his own mug and maintaining a calm smile.

"Fuji," Oishi gasped, finally regaining his senses. The word tasted forbidden on his tongue- for so long, he'd been unable to speak the name for fear of sending Eiji into hysterics.

"Yes," the man across from him whispered softly, gently confirming his existence. "It's good to se you, Oishi."

Oishi spluttered helplessly for another few moments. "I…I'm sorry about earlier. I…was occupied."

"Yes," Fuji said warmly, opening his eyes to reveal sparkling blue orbs, also undiminished by time. "Tezuka called to tell me. Congratulations, Oishi. Truly. You must be so happy."

There it was. That ripping sensation in his abdomen that came whenever someone congratulated him on his white picket fence life. On his beautiful, sweet, agonizingly dull wife and his beautiful, unwanted, nameless baby boy. And the worst part was he had no choice but to smile. When his co-workers threw his wife a baby shower, what was he supposed to say?

_No, don't celebrate…I'm desperately wishing I'd worn a condom and had one less shot of whiskey? _

_No, stop smiling you fools…I'm totally indifferent towards my family?_

_Don't envy me, I'm dead inside?_

But instead, Oishi said what he always said.

"Arigatou gonzimasu."

More silence filled the room. Fuji did not press further. His insight, his impeccable insight, probably told him all he needed to know.

"Eiji is sleeping," Fuji said quietly, in response to Oishi's unasked question. "He had a little too much to drink."

Oishi let out a stifled sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh.

"Eiji had his first drink ten years ago," Oishi said flatly, unable to keep a slight accusatory edge from his voice, "And he's had a drink every day since."

Fuji did not avert his gaze. He winced visibly but he accepted, with a resigned silence, the blame that came with what he had done.

"I will never ask you to forgive me, Oishi. I'll never ask any of you to forgive me." The tensai's voice was nary above a whisper but he did not break eye contact.

Oishi bit back the sudden bile he felt rising to his throat. _Good, _he thought dryly, _Because I never will. You weren't here. You weren't here when Eiji fell apart in my arms. When he sobbed and cried and woke screaming in the middle of the night…because he'd seen an image of your body, dead in some ditch on the side of the road…_

Oishi shook his head vigorously to clear it of the mental image.

"Fuji," Oishi finally forced himself to ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind for nearly a decade, "Where in God's name have you been?"

And so Oishi listened in stunned silence for a little under an hour while Fuji related his tale. At parts, Oishi could feel tears stinging the back of his eyelids and he had to look away.

"Fuji," he said helplessly, when at last the tensai fell silent, "If I never told you before…I am…so sorry about Yuuta-kun…"

Fuji's lower lip quivered for a slight second before morphing back into that familiar serene half smile.

"I've made my peace with God," he said at last, eyes drifting open to reveal blue spheres sparkling with a gentle sadness. "After all, you can rage at him all you like. But he'll still be God. And you'll still be human."

Oishi swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Immediately, he felt the guilt rise in his belly for having judged Fuji so harshly. He'd never truly paused to understand the gravity of Fuji's loss. He'd been so damn angry…but…

_What if that had been Eiji? What if I got a call, saying Eiji's body had been…severed…that he'd died slowly, bled out on the side of the road…begging in a voice to weak to be heard for someone to save him…_

Oishi was shocked by his body's violent reaction to the thought. He pitched forward, squeezing his eyes tight shut until the images dissipated.

At 18, Oishi probably would've jumped off a bridge. Hell, pushing 30, he'd probably still jump off a bridge.

Fuji's voice interrupted Oishi's train of thought, for which the former voice captain was more than grateful.

"Oishi…thank you for taking care of him."

Their eyes locked. Fuji was smiling sweetly, long lashes casting a shadow on his cheeks. His eyes glistened with, if Oishi didn't know better, the beginnings of tears. Oishi saw it then- the reason why Kikimaru Eiji could never truly belong to him.

He could rage and scream but he'd still be Oishi. And Fuji would still be two wings away from being an angel.

"He loves you," Oishi whispered softly, unable to stop the words from falling from his mouth. He would probably-no, not probably. He _would _most definitely regret this conversation later. But even as his mouth moved of its own volition, Oishi recognized the futility of delaying this moment.

Trying to keep the genius from figuring out something so obvious, sooner or later, was like trying to keep a planet from finding the orbit of the sun.

Fuji let out a low, deep sigh and ran a hand through his smooth, honey brown locks.

"Yes," he said softly, after a long pause. "I know."

Oishi felt his mouth go dry.

"How long?"

Fuji hesitated. For a moment he looked as if he were contemplating lying. But then he let his eyes drift shut and lowered his gaze to the table, so that his hair shadowed the top of his face. His silence gave Oishi all the answers he needed.

Fuji had always known. Probably before Eiji himself was aware of it.

Oishi let out a rough bark of laughter. Fuji looked up, face drawn. For the first time since Oishi had seen him, he looked closer to his age.

"Eiji doesn't realize it," Fuji whispered softly, sipping his coffee. His delicate complexion was the slightest bit flushed. "And I never knew what to say."

Oishi couldn't speak. He couldn't even think. Briefly, he wondered what kind of world he lived in. What kind of God would allow someone to posses something they didn't even want, while Oishi had spent the majority of his life trying to attain that very thing?

"The needle," Oishi stated bluntly, finally finding his words. He had meant to ask before but now it was the only coherent thought his brain could form. "What was it?"

Fuji was silent as the grave. He continued to stare into the ripples of his coffee as if in there depths were the answer to all of life's mysteries. But Oishi did notice that the tensai's knuckles were deathly white.

"It's nothing," he said at last, voice a hoarse whisper, "Don't tell Eiji."

Oishi opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a terrifying scream.

Eiji.

Both men looked at each other in shock for a split second, before moving at once.

They rounded the corner just as Eiji did. The acrobatic player was clad in nothing but his boxers, yet his entire body was drenched in a cold sweat. His obsidian eyes were wide with panic and his fierce red locks were plastered to his forehead.

He nearly collided with Oishi; the taller boy was able to extend his arms just in time to keep them both from crashing to the floor.

_How many times has this happened?_

_A hundred? More?_

Oishi would hold Eiji until the panic stopped. That's how it went. It was a familiar pattern. Oishi moved to speak, moved to comfort his friend but it was too late.

Eiji was already in Fuji's arms.

Fuji's expression was the pinnacle of tenderness. His beauty, in moments of compassion, was simply beyond compare.

"Eiji," he said softly, "It's alright. It was only a dream."

"You'd gone away again," Eiji choked out, voice breaking in two. He sounded like a little boy. A lost, frightened little boy.

"That will never happen," Fuji whispered softly, stroking the top of Eiji's head like one would comfort a mewing kitten. "I will never leave you again."

Oishi didn't wait for Eiji to look up. He slipped from the room without a word, picked up his bag and left the apartment.

Eiji had Fuji.

There was no reason to be here anymore.

_**Break**_

Tezuka Kunimitsu was a rational man. Say what you will about him but no one could deny that.

Sure, his interns hated him for his impossibly high standards. His own attendings loathed him for being half their age and making twice as much as them. The nurses whined amongst that he rejected their advances, that he was too good looking and rich to be single.

Not everyone was a fan of Tezuka. But no one could admit that he was rational.

So why he was hiding yet another one of Fuji's secrets, it was impossible to tell. It made no sense. It would come out in the end.

And Eiji would hate him. Oishi, in his righteous fury, would damn near kill him.

It wasn't rational. But then again, neither was this. The naked, three time world champion pressed beneath him was not exactly part of Tezuka Kunimitsu's rational plan.

"Harder," Ryoma panted, gripping the sheets beneath him for dear life. His fighting spirit still burned bright as fire and age had done nothing to make him any less willful and brash. The 26 year old was still a cocky brat. And he was nonetheless demanding. "Tezuka, harder!"

If Tezuka had been thinking clearly, he would have told his junior to be quiet. That even though it was four o' clock in the morning, someone could knock on his office door at any time.

When Tezuka had requested a small, private bedroom and bath suite that adjoined to his office, he hadn't so much been thinking about sleep.

He'd been thinking that fucking Echizen raw on his cherry oak desk was starting to get uncomfortable.

And when he'd requested new blinds, he'd been thinking that the old ones were too thin. That a nosy passerby might be able to see Echizen crouched on his knees beneath the desk, face buried between Tezuka's open legs.

But Tezuka wasn't thinking rationally. He slammed his hips harder and faster into Ryoma, making the younger boy splutter helplessly.

It had been over three months since the last time Ryoma's schedule had allowed him to return to Japan. Both of them were frantic with pure, carnal need.

It hadn't been planned like this, by either of them. The first time Ryoma showed up at his office door, looking unbelievably handsome in a leather jacket and dark wash jeans, golden eyes gleaming…it had simply been a friendly hello. They'd ordered some sushi and reminisced about the old days.

The second time, Ryoma had moved first. He'd had his lips wrapped around Tezuka's member before the former captain could protest. Not that he would've.

The third time, it had been Tezuka who attended some stupid, irrelevant medical conference in Boston simply so that he could catch a plane to New York for a few hours and fuck Ryoma senseless.

The fourth time…well…it didn't really matter now, did it? It had been going on for about three years now.

Ryoma had told him about Fuji almost immediately. But despite scouring the continents for him, Ryoma hadn't been able to find him again.

To be honest, they usually had only mere hours together before Ryoma had to be on another plane, to win another match, to make yet another piece of history…and so there normally wasn't much talking when the two of them were alone.

Unless it was begging.

"Please, Tezuka," Ryoma moaned, muscles contracting around Tezuka's length, "Ah! Please!"

The begging, as it always did, pushed Tezuka over the edge. He released into the younger boy, feeling him spasm with pleasure as he too came. The two men collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted.

They both had to get up early. As they drifted into a familiar, comfortable sleep, Tezuka thoughts began to make their way back to the pressing concern of the moment: Fuji.

The last time they spoke, the tensai had agreed to meet everyone Friday, at one of Kawamura's many restaurants. Tezuka had sent a mass email, telling everyone that it was exceedingly important they try to attend. Though, per Fuji's request, he didn't tell them why.

Even the reclusive Inui had blown off questioning terrorists with Inui Juice to RVSP. Taka too. Momomshiro and Kaidoh were coming. Eiji and Oishi would, of course, once Tezuka got around to telling them about it. Even Ryoma had cancelled a match.

It wasn't a major match but…still. It showed just how much Ryoma cared.

"Tezuka-buchou," Ryoma mumbled, forgetting in his sleepy state that Tezuka hadn't been his captain for years.

"Yes?"

"Is Fuji really back?"

"Yes. He's back."

"Good," Ryoma mumbled, voice fading as he drifted off into sleep, "He owes me a match."

_**Break**_

Fuji Syusuke had made many mistakes in his relatively young life. He didn't attempt to defend himself. Others may make excuses for him but he would never make any for himself.

He'd run away, plain and simple. He'd hurt his friends and his family. He'd nearly worried Eiji into an early grave.

He'd done things for money that would cause Eiji physical pain if he were ever to discover them.

Yes. Fuji had made many mistakes.

He was starting to wonder, as Eiji lay peacefully in his arms, if coming back was one of them.

Later, he'd call his sister and tell her everything. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

Oh God. His poor sister…

"Fuji," Eiji mumbled, "What's wrong?"

Fuji contemplated whether or not he should tell Eiji the truth. The two of them lay wrapped up on Eiji's couch, watching the early morning sun peak over the clouds and bath the world in a rosy glow.

"Nothing."

"Liar," Eiji countered instantly, pushing himself up so that the two of them were eye level but still touching. "Tell me."

"Saa, Eiji…after all these years…you can still read me."

"Of course I can," Eiji huffed, indignant, "I'm your best friend."

Fuji blinked back sudden tears. Still. After everything he'd done…Eiji held nothing against him. He still...

"It's my sister," Fuji conceded at last, "I don't know how to tell her. I don't know how…she could possibly…"

Eiji's facial expression gave him away. The red head averted his dark eyes to the ceiling and bit his lip.

Fuji felt his heart stop.

"What?" He gasped. "What's happened to Yumiko?"

"Nothing!" Eiji said at once, taking Fuji's face into his hands. The tensai felt his apprehension beginning to melt away at the touch.

"She's married. Expecting also, last I heard. That's all. There's nothing wrong with her." Eiji continued, "I haven't seen her in a while but…Tezuka keeps tabs on her. For your sake. He took it upon himself to look after her after you…"

Fuji swallowed. Of course. More loose ends that he'd left behind. Tezuka had never mentioned…but then again, there was a reason Fuji had gone to Tezuka first upon returning to Japan. It had seemed only right…to return the man who had led them all through the happiest days of their lives.

But Tezuka had never mentioned Yumiko being married.

"Eiji…what aren't you telling me?"

_**Break**_

"Atobe."

"Fuji."

The former Hyotei captain had aged remarkably well but that was almost to be expected. He looked virtually the same, though Fuji couldn't help but note he had grown a few inches and filled out a bit. With pure muscle, of course.

The two men stared each other down from opposite sides of Atobe's stretch limousine. Atobe was reclining against the seat, calmly sipping an apple martini. Really, did the multi-millionaire have to pick him up outside the hotel in something so damn conspicuous?

What a stupid question. Of course he did…it was Atobe.

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm not dead." Fuji said bluntly. Though he kept a cool outward façade, he was beginning to wonder if it had been such a brilliant idea to meet Atobe alone. It had been an ordeal for Fuji to convince Eiji to allow him out of the apartment. He'd had to swear up and down that he'd come back.

Of course, Fuji hadn't let on that he was planning to go see Atobe. He'd said he was going to the hotel to get his things and then going to see his sister.

Which, in a manner of speaking, was true.

"You're fucking my sister." Fuji continued, tone hard. "Really, Keigo?"

Atobe laughed, unperturbed.

"I'm not just fucking her," he quipped, tossing a strand of hair behind his ear, "I'm married to her."

Fuji felt his eye twitch in irritation.

"You couldn't have come up with a more discreet way to fuck with me?"

Atobe went silent. His trademark arrogant smirk was undeniably strained.

"You left," he whispered softly, "You left without even _telling _me."

"Atobe…"

The taller man looked up at the mention of his name. He had put down his martini now and closed the gap between them, pressing Fuji up against the cold glass window. Etched into every line of Atobe's face was pure, unabashed outrage.

"You left Ore-sama! You…you, lowly, sadistic bastard…how _dare_ you!"

Fuji met Atobe's gaze without flinching.

"I left everyone, Atobe."

"I am not everyone!" Atobe growled, pressing his hand into the side of Fuji's ribcage until the tensai let out a little squeak of pain.

"Atobe…that hurts…"

Atobe wasn't listening. He was too busy barking at his driver to set a course for the Tokyo penthouse.

"Not the estate, sir?"

"Did I say the estate, idiot? The apartment. Fucking step on it."

The privacy screen was drawn up before Fuji could protest or even blink.

"Atobe…no. No…"

Again, Atobe wasn't listening.

"I'll call Yumiko over from the main house," he mumbled, hands deftly removing his custom made Armani suit jacket and tossing it casually over his shoulder. Then he started on his shirt buttons. "You can talk to her as much as you like when I'm finished with you. She may take a while, though. She's slow these days…what with being knocked up and all."

Fuji let out a sharp gasp, a combination of shock, fury and pain. Atobe still had him pressed up against the window. It was difficult to draw a complete breath.

"So it's true."

"Five months," Atobe ground out, shirt falling limp around his waist. Fuji tried to look away but it was pointless. "Thirty-seven is a little old for her to be having a child, though. It's not her fault, poor thing. I can rarely manage to get it up for her. But my empire will need a new king one day so I must do my duty. We have a girl already but…what use is a girl?"

"Shouldn't we talk?" Fuji managed to whimper, "Shouldn't we talk about…"

"Later," Atobe cut him off gruffly, sliding a hand underneath Fuji's sweater. Fuji shivered.

"You're married," Fuji whispered helplessly, as Atobe removed his final articles of designer clothing with superhuman speed. "To my _sister._"

"So?" Atobe said curtly, pressing his naked body against Fuji. Fuji felt his body respond instantly, as if a decade had not passed since the last time they'd done this.

"This is so beyond wrong," Fuji gasped, trying to pull away but unable to find an escape route.

Atobe began to grind his hips against Fuji's, causing both men to let out a series of jagged moans.

Atobe lowered his lips to Fuji's ear.

"So?"

"We can't…"

Atobe yanked off Fuji's sweater in one fluid motion, pulling up the thin T-shirt underneath to reveal a heaving, flushed porcelain chest. Atobe curled his lips around Fuji's already perked nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth.

"You want to."

"Oh, God…Atobe…"

Atobe smirked at the use of his name. He removed the offending t-shirt and trailed ravenous kisses down Fuji's chest. He nipped, hard, near the belly button. Hard enough to draw blood.

Fuji hissed.

Atobe hummed in satisfaction.

"Still a masochist, I see. A sadist outside the bedroom but a bitch in it."

"N-no…""

"You're rock hard."

"Nnnhh…Atobe!"

The dark haired boy had slipped a hand into Fuji's boxers, stroking the tensai's shaft teasingly.

Fuji arched his back in desperation.

"Stop…Atobe…no…"

Atobe slid the boxers off Fuji and maneuver them so that they were lying naked on the seat, with Atobe on top.

Atobe crushed Fuji's mouth beneath his, sweeping the tensai's tongue with his own. There was a brief struggle for dominance, which Fuji quickly lost. Atobe's desire was simply too intense.

Atobe had begun to grind his hips into Fuji's. Fuji let out spluttering little moans of pleasure.

"I don't have any lube," Atobe whispered teasingly, sucking on the delicate skin of Fuji's neck. Fuji bit back a scream.

The motion of the car was pushing the two men even closer together, the rocking of their hips made even more frantic.

"I don't care," Fuji groaned, at last giving up all pretense of resistance. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he'd known this was going to happen. He'd wanted it to as wrong as it was.

The guilt at fucking his sister's husband would come later, as well as his fury at Atobe for using her as a bridge to him…but right now there was only desire.

"It's going to hurt, Fuji," Atobe mumbled with immense satisfaction, all the while pressing the tip of his solid length against Fuji's puckered entrance.

"Atobe…"

Atobe teased his cock up and down Fuji's smooth, round ass.

"What was that?" He panted, beads of sweat dripping down his chiseled chest.

"Atobe! Please!"

"Ask properly, Fuji."

"Fuck me! Atobe…Atobe…nhhhhh!"

Fuji's begging was cut off by a scream of pleasure as Atobe thrust himself deep into Fuji's hole without any warning.

Atobe was right. It did hurt. The pain and the pleasure mingled to form an overwhelming sensation, sending Fuji's entire body into spasms.

Atobe fucked him hard and raw, without holding back. Fuji bucked his hips helplessly, moaning Atobe's name in a high, desperate voice.

"You're such a little slut, Fuji…" Atobe gasped, in a voice that let Fuji know he was close to release.

"N…no…"

"No? Should I stop then?"

"No! No, Atobe-sama…don't…stop…fucking…your…slut…!"

Atobe gasped, mustering all of his strength and slamming his cock one final time into Fuji's entrance before shuddering and releasing collapsing onto Fuji.

Fuji screamed Atobe's name one more time as he released, spilling his seed all over the leather seat.

A few moments later, both men were fully clothed. Neither Atobe nor Fuji had a single hair out of place. Atobe polished off his martini; the only hint of his recent exertions was the slight flush on his cheeks.

Fuji was silent. The stinging pain in his posterior was going to be a reminder, for the next week or so, that he was despicable human being.

Finally, Atobe spoke.

"Why did you come back, Fuji?"

Fuji paused.

"I belong here. With Eiji and the others. With my sister. And…with my niece."

Atobe grinned.

"Her name is Kaori. And your upcoming nephew is going to be called Hikaru."

Fuji smiled. "How old is she?"

"Three and a half. She's a beautiful little girl. But what would you expect, with such a father?"

Fuji snorted but his face quickly softened. "I can't wait to meet her. I came back to be with everyone. I've already wasted enough time and I just want to be…"

"With me?"

Fuji met Atobe's probing gaze.

"You're married. You're my brother in law."

"Is that a no?"

"I don't know."

There was a pause.

"Has he told you yet?"

Fuji didn't need to ask whom Atobe was talking about.

"No."

"And if he does? When he does?"

Fuji swallowed.

"I don't know, Atobe. He waited for me. All this time. Everyone else is married…having kids…but he…"

"Did you expect me to wait?"

"That's not what I meant. I just…"

"You can't love someone out of obligation, Fuji."

"I know that."

Atobe sighed.

"Tezuka told me about the reunion on Friday. Shall I bring Yumiko and Kaori?"

"Yes," Fuji said, glad to be back on a neutral topic. "Please do."

"It'll be nice to see Kawamura outside of the office." Atobe mused absently, "Son of a bitch has made almost as much money as me."

"Atobe…keep your hands off me in front of Eiji. I mean it."

Atobe let out a low growl.

"You're mine, Fuji."

"I was yours, Atobe. Ten year ago. I need…I need a minute to think. This is all too much."

"Ore-sama will generously allow you one month to make a final decision. If you agree to be my mistress, I will be more than fair with you. I travel often for business and you would accompany me in the finest luxury. Besides, I've always wanted to fuck on my private jet."

Fuji twitched. "This is serious, Atobe. This is my family…our family…we're dealing with."

"I'm aware of that. I am selfish but not heartless. Yumiko will never know."

Fuji shook his head in confusion, raking a hand through his honey locks.

"I don't know. Atobe…I just can't think about this right now."

"You have a month, Fuji. That's about as long as I can stand not fucking you silly."

Fuji swallowed the rising lump of desire in his throat.

"Fine, Atobe. One month. I'll tell you then."

_**Break**_

Eiji sat by the door all day. Fuji had promised he'd be back by that night. Eiji had tried to distract himself…hell, he'd even resorted to doing the paperwork he normally put off until the last possible minute.

_Fuji. Fuji. Fuji._

_Where is he?_

_It's nearly midnight…_

_Fuji…_

_Fuji…_

The soft knock on the door broke Eiji out of his panicked musings. He leapt up and opened the door.

As promised, the tensai stood there, holding two suitcases. He looked tired but happy.

Eiji leapt on him without warning. Fuji stumbled a bit but his smile did not waver.

"See, Eiji? I told you I'd come home."


End file.
